Crazy good

This post was meant for Friday to follow up the Keeper... 

So, AFTER the Lord clearly reminded me that He is my Keeper, we had the wildest day on the market our house has ever seen. And it was such fun to step aside calmly with bruised hope to watch goodness unfold. 

After our beloved house in Charlotte was on the market for 10 months, we accepted an offer in February and it went under contract for a due diligence period. It has been such a difficult process because we love the home dearly and we are so disheartened for it to sit on the market so long and carry so much weight attached to it. So, we were relieved to be under contract until this past Wednesday the buyers changed their mind and backed out. That lead me to the previously mentioned dark low grumpy day followed by a truly divine day from wake to close. 

On Thursday, the house first day back on market, we received not one, not two, but three offers throughout the day.  While the first offer was very low, miraculously the second was asking price and the third, above asking. It just kept getting better and better.  It was CRAZY. CRAZY good. So after a bit and back and forth all day long and a few different editions of contracts, we signed a contract with a new lovely couple by the end of the day that we feel will be a good place for them and a good sale for us. 

How FUN is that? So let go a little and draw near to the Keeper. And I say that even knowing that we still have 30 more days where they can back out, but I believe no matter what, the Lord has reminded me that He sees us. 

KEEPER

This morning God woke me up and told me to get up for that still time together. I poured a big cup of coffee and sat in the quiet with a Lenten book I have been reading and this was the first thing I read:

Psalm 121

1I look up to the mountains—

from where does my help come?

2My help comes from the LORD,

who made heaven and earth!

3He will not let you stumble;

the one who keeps you will not slumber.

4Behold, he who keeps Israel

never slumbers or sleeps.

5The LORD is your keeper!

The LORD stands beside you as your protective shade.

6The sun will not harm you by day,

nor the moon at night.

7The lord will keep you from all evil;

and will keep your life.

8The LORD will keep your going out and your coming,

both now and forever.

And I took a long warm comforting sip and thought, oh my goodness. My help comes from YOU, MAKER of HEAVEN and EARTH. Not nutella or Downton or running or my own guts or wit or know how or whatever, while temporarily good & pleasing, MY HELP comes from my faithful KEEPER.  And if I am to actually BELIEVE in this KEEPER, I cannot forfeit my trust when the keeping feels unsatisfactory to me. In fact, it has OFTEN felt unsatisfactory to trust goodness in the last few years, I do not actually feel protected from all evil.  I have been eager to muster my own strength and mend, but the tireless provision and presence even though it hasn't looked like what I requested, has been tangible. It has been painful and lonely and long and seemingly illogical, but I believe my keeper has seen me and is holding me in my strife and loss and confusion and grief. I would have changed SO much of the keeping.  But still I believe my coming and going is seen, and it is time I actually attempt rest, because it is not all mine to mend. 

Thank you LORD for giving me the quiet and these words this morning.

(and friends, i cannot wait to tell you what happened the rest of the day, it is sweet! that is for tomorrow) 

Prayer requests

Meditation is the detachment from the confusion all around us in order to have a richer attachment to God. - Richard Foster, Prayer

Last weekend, I probably got 5 different requests for important prayer requests in one day. Today, we receive bad news and seconds later I am sending out requests to my closest peeps requesting prayer. Its a reflex for me. Part of me just feels most afraid to stand in the pain alone, so half the invitation is be with me, please. And I am beginning to wonder if that is actually what I should request or say. And its not because I have become some pessimist about the sincerity of the request or the response, but at the same time, I do wonder if its over spiritualized language doesn't match the practice or intention. Does that make sense? Anywho, I am really thinking hard about my own prayer practices and in that wondering what do I believe when I send these requests? What do I believe when I respond from others requests and say I will pray? 

And the other truth is that I have this reflex to ask others to pray, and in reality, I have found it increasingly hard to turn and sit and commune with God myself. Maybe that's really what this is all about.  Today I was really struck by my behavior and words when I came to realize, I don't want to prayer. I'm quite mad. I don't want to be still. I am not sure I think I could hear today. And in my doing that keeping the pain very close to my chest and my control.

I do believe that one of the gifts of reading Richard Foster's Prayer book many moons ago was I realized that my conversation with God exceeds the formal sit down, bow your head, clasp your hands type times that had been heavily promoted and shown by many in my southern upbringing.  At the same rate – I also learned so much from Henri Nouwen that I do actually have to create space (that whole solitude word) to hear and allow the Spirit to move. And I believe there is a Holy Spirit alive and active - and it's possible to spend a great deal of my time distracting so that I I can’t draw near to Her. Today I chose spoonfuls’s of Nutella and Downtown Abbey to distract and not quiet myself.  And as I close the day, I can tell. I can tell I was discouraged and I ran. I hoped others could save me from myself. But I did not want to sit still and hash it out with God. My evening told the truth of my running even in how i treated my people and myself. I needed the Spirit to give me the peace and strength against the odds but I turned to everything else to heal. Okay, okay, i get it now, dang this still time. 

Normal schmormal part 1

Normal. What kind of word is that? Normal to who? For how long? See the thing I am realizing is that I am feeling this heavy blanket of cloudy horribleness that represents what I am trying to name my new normal. And I realize I have no freedom there and I feel so stifled to make any progress. Finally, i know a piece of why - who is deciding the normal? Is what i am ultimately trying to do measure normal and therefore acceptable to what was? It's just not that smooth of a transition. 

Nine months ago we welcomed an infant into our family - precious Mateo - 10 months old entered our home as a miraculous gift. Normal gone. New normal - we were a family a four, we have a boy, we have a baby again, we have a courageous grieving birthmother in our life, Hannah is a big sister, sleep changes, days changes, nights changes, rooms change, on and on and on and yet... what do i expect of myself? Not to miss a beat. To be the best adoptive mom ever and immediately attach and bond and remember life with a baby. 

Three months later we learn my mother's cancer has returned, the tumor has grown, and the medical options to extend or heal life no longer exists. Normal gone. Instantly we were facing a battle of epic proportions, watching the symptoms grow and steal from my mom. In time my role as daughter extended to also become a caregiver.  While I still received love in very different ways, fairly quickly the relationship i knew was rewired and the new one sucked pretty bad. My relationships with my brother, sister and dad all also took on new complicated forms with our matriarch suffering. 

20 days later I left my job at a place I really liked and felt there was a lot of opportunity for a future I could contribute to in that place. Quite suddenly, I was a stay at home mom and a caretaker. I had no colleagues or work trips or donor dinners. I didn't take showers every morning and put on clothes that matched with earrings and heels, i rolled out to crying, grabbed leggings, an oversized shirts, a hat and some Vans. Half my closet and half my head seemed to be quickly unnecessary, and other parts of me needed to stretch out longer than my body had ever been trained to do. 

Two months later I kissed my mothers forehead for the final time as I grabbed her darkening hands and said goodbye. The ten days leading to her final breath were some of the most brutal days I have ever known. It took a toll on my entire person, and those of my immediate family, and three days later, it was Christmas. With young kids and stockings and cheese balls. How not normal could it possibly be? The day after Christmas we boarded a plane to head home to plan and offer a life celebration for my mother. The irony of every symbol and message on every store front and face around us had us walking around like aliens. Nothing in our bodies matched the glitter and exuberance of the season. 

Two months later and here I am now. Expecting myself to have arrived at some new normal and be knocking life out. I have been parenting, dieting, leading bible studies, attending school and church functions, trying to reenter friendships and my marriage, etc. and etc. trying so hard to feel alive and normal. But no matter what i do or try, I don't have a grasp on this time. Ultimately I have created a portal to pile on defeat because I cannot hack in the same ways, for now. Not yet. And I think it is because I am trying to roll with all the same tools and strength of yesteryear. But today looks nothing like it. So I can keep trying and living but i need new tools like kindness, patience, and acceptance. 

My timeline is all out there, much of the above you already know. But today i had to write it out and confess outloud that i am not adjusting or rising to a new occasion. This mound of grief and welcome cannot be rushed. I am deep in the thick of loss and gain and transition. And i don't have normal days. Many still hurt to the bone. Many are experimental. Many are confusing and lonely. Many offer new joy. But I haven't arrived at any new normal, and as of today I will commit to quit trying to a force an earlier arrival date. 


keep trying

What I didn't know about grief, well, is apparently everything. I started four posts and three made no sense and one was too honest even for me. I'll have to try again tomorrow. The biggest lesson I see in carving out daily time for this distraction-less space is that there is a LOT of sorting & feeling to fill it. And all that feeling and sorting flat wears me out and often leaves me less eloquent with blurry eyes. What I am practicing is that is also leaves me full of kindness towards myself, and all the ways I do not feel or look a thing like myself. When I can't write, i can't write. But I tried. Tomorrow I'll try again. And when I try again it will be for me and God and the memory of this time. And I'll just consider myself the luckiest gal around if any of you stick with me through all this sorting and feeling. 

Cheers. 

changing of the guard

Guest post for the weekend edition by Stephen Oster, the man who calls me to observe and to dream, invites us to some Spring reflections. Cheers! 

---------

God blooms the earth from frozen ground and small seeds. He burst open the grave of winter year after year after year and that’s just the scenery. That’s the setting. How much more the graves of our hearts? How much more the various needs and facets and branches of our lives?

Spring is a time of growth, but it’s a violent time. It’s a time of tearing and budding and sprouting. A seed that has lay dormant in the soil for the Winter begins to split in two. Earth is moved aside on its ascent and descent as it pierces the earth. Flowers rising on the stalks and branches of their bearer reach a crescendo as they burst into flames of purples, violets and lavenders—and that’s just one hue. 

The color palette is amazing. The most fleeting part of the tree is the most beautiful. Its flower signals spring and new life. It is a fragrance of color that arrives and disappears almost as suddenly leaving shades of green in its wake. Like Fall, color seems to signal change. Color is the changing of the guard. 

As Spring begins to hatch in our little haven of a garden, here in Seattle, I find myself wondering what has lay dormant in my soul this Winter. What will burst forth this Spring in me that has been slowly growing towards the light waiting to reveal it’s color.

sco

 

--

happy

Hannah and I were walking down Fremont Ave. with full bellies from our dinner date, and she was laughing and acting so silly. And I found myself just laughing and laughing with her. I was completely conscious for a moment in time and reveling in it.  It was so so much fun. I just can hardly believe how awesome it was to sit on two tin stools in a crowded restaurant and eat burgers, fries and share an unbelievable locally made ice cream with caramel dripped in milkshake. YUM. 

Recently I have been thinking so much about she and my conversations and how I can use time together to ask good questions with her.  She actually loves fun questions and is usually totally game to answer anything. I realize too, I need to be braver in what I am asking about how she is, what she sees in the world, and how she is feeling about herself. I am learning and just felt tonight, sneaking away for a girls date, was medicinal. She is such a delight to be with, such fun curious, observant company, and I just cannot believe I get to be her mom. 

In light of yesterday being heinous and then today offering such sweetness, I am grounded a bit of what counts. Oddly enough, today after reading that a decade long Harvard study was complete and now widely published on the one thing to lead a happy and healthy life, and of course, the answer is, relationships. I watched the Tedtalk today and it wasn't earth shattering, just more reminders, be in it all for the right things. And for me that is to honor Christ and love as deeply as possible the humans in my path. Especially those under my roof. 

Cheers, my friends. 

all in a day's time

Today hurt.  Without relenting, i felt the weight. And so i do not write with ease tonight because the sunny side is not yet up. I hurt from the inside out. There were circumstantial pains like a difficult house inspection report and buyers that may back out, a hit and run while my car was parked at the gym (car is fine just banged up), and an agitated non sleeping one year old. But also my day was packed with all my demons showing off. They seemed tireless to remind me of all the sides of me I don't like and they pummeled my weakness. How rude.

To top it off, the day ends with having to say goodbye to my dad who is leaving for a month for East Coast adventures. And I am so happy for him, but also, he has become a great source of strength, understanding and comfort for me in this time of grief and loss. So I will deeply miss his presence. 

Why are there days like this, and why do i ask why...will i ever learn? I just need the pain spread out a little right now as I am a wee on the tender side. After all the hulabuloo of chores, school and dance and groceries, etc. and I pull into my driveway and stare for a bit. Its raining hard and Mateo is sad and I feel so tired that the thought of even unbuckling and carrying one more time might put me over the top. Pitiful, i know, by i tell you the wearing down was deep. I let myself get soaked and open the door and he looks over and says in his fast high pitched voice - "MOM!" and smiles so big. Oh goodness child, i don't deserve that. Seconds later, I see Stephen coming down the hill from the bus with a big smile on his face. "He's home," i say to myself and my body sighs a bit. And within the hour, Hannah, my dad, and Bryan all make their way in and to the dinner table and for the first time all day, I think, "Im gonna make it." Nothing was solved, and surely nothing special about the cuisine just a cold beer, frozen pizza and salad. The day still was. But maybe the sunny side did come out and I didn't know until i started writing. I was glad to see my people and for us to try to sit around a table and talk and nourish ourselves. And I guess as tired as my eyes are writing, it really did help. To have that day, to feel so dark, and then to still be loved and seen. 

I guess I can face tomorrow. I will love some sleep. And I would sure appreciate circumstantial ease but I do see how deeply provided for I am even on the total total crap days. It is well, I guess, after all, even when it does not seem/feel so.